


hot and heavy

by herzen



Series: no place like home [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, tw for mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9580985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herzen/pseuds/herzen
Summary: Soonyoung is thirsty.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for soonwoonet @ twitter for the drabble theme: fire!

Sometimes it's just a parched throat, an easily quenched thirst, the ability to still be around people without the need to fucking jump on anything that moves and drain them dry. Something a quick cup of pig's blood is able to satiate. Eyes a normal brown, fangs not sharp enough to tear skin. Something tolerable, painless. Harmless.

Other times it's heat, unbearable and destructive, a desire for respite so extreme Seungcheol would have to gather the kids away, to safety. It's fire at the pit of his gut, kindled by a lone sliver of a column of a neck, unmindfully exposed at the worst times. At the best times. It's a thirst so powerful it's as if his throat's a barren land, run dry by a raging fire, a wake of parched soil and burnt trees and cracked earth. Times when Soonyoung's eyes bleed amber, senses heightened, fangs bared. It's combustion of his tightly held sanity, driven into primal desire. It's dangerous.

"Soonyoung," Wonwoo whispers, and there's fear in it, in the tremble of his voice, its breathlessness. "Stop."

But Soonyoung's too far gone by now, barely able to register anything that isn't the smell of blood, the addicting thrum of Wonwoo's quickened pulse under his lips. Wonwoo's insistent pull from his tight hold, the way he slides his body away in minute increments, unable to push Soonyoung off completely. Powerless. It’s driving Soonyoung mad, drunk from Wonwoo's scent alone, blinded by his thirst. Wonwoo's helpless pull from Soonyoung's grip on both wrists. His neck bared not for Soonyoung to bite into, but to look away from the monster Soonyoung's been reduced to.

"Let go," he hears Wonwoo say. Another weak pull of his wrists. He has his eyes squeezed shut, cheeks a pretty shade of red.

The heat in his throat is fucking disorienting, every swallow a painful reminder of his inflamed throat, thirst so bad it's amazing how he hasn't sunk his fangs into Wonwoo yet, lap at the blood that gushes out, feel Wonwoo's fight leave him in seconds, drink and drink and _drink_ until the fire in his gut's extinguished, until the pain's subsided, until Wonwoo finally closes his eyes for real, passed out and lips a scary pale. Until Soonyoung feels him go cold underneath him.

Amidst the haze that’s settled, the desire dulling his humanity, it's Wonwoo's whimper that finally snaps him out of his drunken reverie--the sound Wonwoo makes as Soonyoung grazes fangs against his skin, licks a slow stripe along the column of his neck. The softest of sounds, and yet he hears it crystal clear.

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung manages to say, even as fire nips at his throat, at the edges of his control. Even as he's still fixated on the unmarred skin, desperate for a taste. Even as he stares at Wonwoo and sees not his friend, but a salve for the flames that lick at the underside of his skin.“Fuck, I’m sorry.“

Soonyoung lets go of his wrists, first—doesn’t immediately let up, still entranced. When Wonwoo reaches out to place a trembling hand against Soonyoung’s throat to rub the skin there, the heat’s as suffocating as it’s always been, unforgiving. And yet Soonyoung’s senses filter only that simple touch, and for a moment there’s a reprieve, thirst for blood seemingly nonexistent.


End file.
